Saturday, December 17, 2016

Dear Penny

So for a while there, I thought this whole reading thing that you've been doing was an elaborate prank, but I now know for sure that you can really, truly read.  And clearly you love it.  It is a whole year later, and there are piles of books everywhere.  When you wake up in the morning, Milo passes you a blanket from his crib to sit on and you grab some books and read to him.  It is the most amazing thing in the world.
Right now, I call you Toothless, as both of your front top teeth are missing, and show no signs of coming in anytime soon.  Apparently, in the morning, I am no longer able to call you Little One, and will only be able to refer to you as Kiddo, because six is still a child, but seven is a full blown kid.
You started the violin this year, and your teacher gives you the exercises other kids won't do because they're too hard; you think they're fun.  Your tumbling is getting better by the week.  Every evening while I read to Milo, you either read your own book, or you take out a composition notebook and write - you've written poetry, lists of things on your mind, and options of treats to bring in to your class - you decided on Ring Pops.
Every year, I think it's as good as it can possibly be.  I think about how charming and funny and kind and helpful and loving you are and can't imagine that there's more, but then there is.  You are unfolding and revealing and blossoming at such a pace that it's making my head spin.

Penny, I love you to the moon and stars and back and the moon and stars and back one hundred million billion infinity thousand times.  I am looking forward to doing even more awesome stuff with you in your seventh year, and can't wait to learn what you have to teach me.

Happy birthday, big girl. 

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